


Divinity

by Xcog



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angels, Angels vs. Demons, Demons, Divinity, Fantasy, Gods, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-03-04 14:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13366659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xcog/pseuds/Xcog
Summary: The seemingly endless war between angels and demons is finally coming to a close. The demonic army grows ever stronger by the second. Only time will tell if, against all odds, the angelic army can retain control of Eathara and save the human race from annihilation.





	1. The Turning Point

        The town of Brinewall was eerily silent save for the sounds of braying horses, bellowing behemoths, and clashing steel. The only voices were those of the angels and demons who savagely fought just outside of town, a sea of white and gold, black and red. Even the sound of crashing waves on the nearby shore could not dwarf the furor of their battle.

        The residents had all been evacuated while the angelic soldiers defended them and their homes from the formidable demonic attackers. The battle was nearing its climax, and the angelic soldiers were finally beginning to make headway in pushing back the demonic battalion. Instead of retreating, however, the demonic soldiers merely fought harder. Despite having gained the advantage, the angelic battalion still had a long way to go before claiming victory.

        Commander Zade Dawnforge, God of Light, fought alongside his men as he always did. As he fought off demonic soldiers left and right, with skilled swordplay and radiant magic, he spotted a hulking, muscle-bound creature lumbering toward him; a behemoth, the heaviest cavalry the demonic army could muster. Matte black armor covered most of its shaggy, grime colored hair, indicative of its importance. The behemoth’s trusted rider, one of the demonic colonels, pointed his saber at Zade, spurring the huge creature and all nearby demonic soldiers onward.

        Zade took a deep breath. From his back sprouted a pair of feathery white wings, practically shining in the light of the mid-afternoon sun. With a mighty flap of his wings, he leaped high into the air. Doing his best to dodge the storm of arrows that followed, Zade glided onto the behemoth’s snout with just barely enough room to stand. Zade let loose a bright flash of light from his palm directly into the beast’s beady eyes, as he struggled to keep his balance. The behemoth, startled and dazed, reared up onto its hind legs. The demonic colonel toppled off his saddle and onto the ground with an unceremonious thud, and was promptly trampled by a swarm of his own men.

        Zade backflipped off the behemoth before he could slip off. In the precious time he’d bought for himself, while the behemoth was still on its hind legs, he closed his eyes and focused. Pale yellow energy rapidly coursed through his arms and into his hands, engulfing them in a blinding light. He thrust his hands forward and from them erupted an enormous laser of luminous magic. The beam clashed violently with the behemoth’s armor, sparks flying in every direction, before finally blasting through. Piercing through the behemoth’s stomach, the beam sent dozens of nearby soldiers flying. The behemoth, letting out one last wail of defeat, toppled onto its back and collapsed in a bloody heap. Zade, still being peppered with arrows, turned around and sprinted away into the relative safety of the backline. He hunched over with his hands on his knees, sweat dripping off his tanned skin and blood oozing from a few arrow wounds. He furled his wings to let them rest, their brilliant white disappearing into nothingness.

        “Getting a little winded, Zade?” taunted a rough, familiar voice. Zade turned around to see Arryn, God of Fire, grinning at him.

“Hah…It’ll take a lot more than a couple of behemoths to keep me down,” Zade gasped, yanking an arrow out of his back like it was merely a splinter. The wounds began to close.

“Don’t overdo it,” Arryn snickered. “Leave some work for the rest of us!” Arryn drew his falchion and darted headlong into the fray. Not long after he disappeared into the thick of the action, fiery explosions began to erupt all across the battlefield. Dozens of demonic soldiers ran around in a panic, realizing their flammability just a little bit too late.

        The battle waged on, but the demonic battalion couldn’t last much longer. All of their behemoths had died, and their other cavalry was thinning rapidly as well. Recovery would require great skill and efficiency, but Arryn’s raging inferno made careful, efficient combat essentially impossible. Zade glanced back at the town behind him as he finished plucking the arrows out. It had sustained relatively little damage. He let out a sigh of relief, knowing the townspeople were safe. Another near perfect victory. Zade took a couple more deep breaths and prepared to run back into battle. As he did, however, he spotted a lone demon—a hooded young man around the age of nineteen—strolling through the chaos and scanning the battlefield. At first, Zade was confused. But then it hit him. He recognized that demon.

        A group of angelic soldiers charged at the demon as if he were any other demonic soldier. The demon was entirely unfazed. He dug his heels in, started to shake, and strange, dark taupe energy began to crackle across his body. All of the demon’s nearby allies stopped everything they were doing and darted away as if their lives depended on it. The angelic soldiers didn’t seem to notice.

        “ALL OF YOU, RUN!!” Zade shouted at the top of his lungs. But it was too late. As the angelic soldiers converged, the demon let out a violent eruption of energy that sent everyone even remotely near him careening into the dirt. A few soldiers struggled to get back on their feet. The rest remained stuck on the ground, convulsing erratically. Some weren’t moving at all.

        Those that were able charged at the demon again. The demon conjured a pair of black steel claws. He easily avoided the first soldier’s attack and stabbed him through the ribs. The next soldier, before he could even think of attacking, was knocked over and stabbed through the neck. The next two soldiers attacked in unison, but it wasn’t enough. The demon blocked both strikes with his two claws, and in one swift motion, decapitated the soldier to his left. The remaining soldier, blinded by terror, tried to attack again. The demon effortlessly caught the soldier’s sword in between his claws and tore it away. The soldier stood frozen in disbelief for a second, before coming to his senses and attempting to escape. The demon lunged after him, stabbed him in the back with both claws, and tore him into bloody pieces. Those that hadn’t retreated earlier feebly clamored away as fast as they feasibly could.

        Zade watched his men get eviscerated with a terrible, all-consuming mix of horror, disgust, and fury. He was frozen in place, shivering. Though he desperately wanted to look away, he couldn’t. As he watched the massacre unfold, the demon’s eyes met his. The demon refocused his attention on Zade, leaving a half-mutilated corpse on the ground, and stared vacantly into him. Zade could barely even think with the demon’s cold, soul-piercing stare trained on him, everything but the demons glowing white eyes and ominous, solemn frown masked in the shadow of his hood.

        The rest of the demonic battalion, cutting their losses, began to retreat from battle. The hooded demon narrowed his eyes at Zade and reluctantly followed suit. Once the horrifying visage of the strange demon blended into the rest of the demonic battalion, Zade felt empty and drained. He and his soldiers went to search for survivors and gather the dead, and then retreated themselves.

        The battle was won, but the victory was empty and lifeless. The God Eater had struck again.

~

        Zade and Arryn returned to a hushed and sad atmosphere at the angelic stronghold that evening. The halls bustled, but there was no energy like normal. Everyone looked sad and defeated. The two walked into the chamber where the other gods met and sat down at their chairs.

“How did the battle go, Zade?” Vera, God of Electricity, asked quietly.

“We successfully defended Brinewall, but then…The God Eater arrived and killed dozens of our men.”

“I can’t get it out of my mind,” Arryn groaned. “I just can’t unsee it. The way he fought, the way he tore apart our soldiers—MY soldiers—like paper…”

Zade quietly looked around and saw that Erika, God of Air, was absent.

“…Where’s Erika?” Zade asked. The entire room went deathly silent. Vera winced and hid her face in her hands.

“When you left, Zade,” Corryl, God of Earth, began, “Erika’s army returned shortly after, and…” He stopped. The room was quiet again. “Erika is dead, Zade,” Corryl finished, his sonorous voice wavering ever so slightly. “The God Eater killed her in battle.”

        Corryl’s words hit Zade harder than any blow from battle ever could. He looked around, wide-eyed and frozen in time, at all the other gods. They all had their heads down, save for Vera, who still hid her face. Her body was heaving, and the faint sound of sobbing escaped out from underneath her hands. Zade just sat there blinking like a stunned animal.

        Arryn’s eyes were empty. He took a deep breath in, trembling violently.

“She…was…WHAT?!” he screamed, slamming his fists on the table.

“Arryn, please, calm down,” Ulrich, God of Water, pleaded.

“Calm down? CALM?! DOWN?!” Arryn raged, staring daggers at Ulrich. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN, CALM DOWN?! DON’T YOU GET IT?! DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?! ERIKA IS  _DEAD_ !!” Zade noticed tears on Arryn’s cheeks, overshadowed by his fury.

“A-Arryn, rage isn’t going to solve anything,” Ulrich insisted. “I’m…just as distraught as you, believe me…”

“Oh, you are? As if!” Arryn scoffed, still trembling. “This…can’t be happening…”

“Arryn…” Zade began. Arryn shifted his searing gaze to Zade. Try as he might, Zade couldn’t think of anything to say.

        Lucien, God of Darkness, sat up. “We need to end this war,  _now_ ,” he interrupted, silencing the room with his calm yet authoritative voice. “Everything is spiralling out of our control; the demons have become more coordinated, we’re losing too many men too fast, and now we have to deal with The God Eater. We may have the advantage now, but if we don’t end this soon, I don’t think we’ll ever have it again.”

“Do you have a plan?” Corryl asked, furrowing his brow. Lucien nodded.

“I’m glad you asked; as a matter of fact, I do. It’s what I’ve been mulling over for the past few months. Now that Erika’s gone, I think it may be our only chance.”

        “What do you have in mind?” Zade asked, recovering from his shock and regaining his composure.

“My plan is that we split up into two groups; one group marches to Sablerock Canyon to attack the demons head-on. The other group marches to Blackened Vale and flanks the ongoing battle, enveloping the enemy and overwhelming them. Hopefully, The God Eater will show himself by the time the second group arrives, so we can all collapse on him at once. He’s only one man; he can’t handle all of us at the same time.” The room was quiet for a brief moment. “Shortly after being informed of Erika’s death, we got word from some scouts that another demonic battalion is headed toward Jewelheart. So if we attack now, their army will be at a disadvantage.” The room was silent. “The time is now, everyone,” Lucien asserted.

        Zade sighed and looked Lucien in the eyes. Lucien looked back and raised his eyebrows.

“Lucien…if we all attack at once then we’ll be leaving all the human towns unguarded. Not to mention we’ll all be in severe danger ourselves.” Lucien nodded.

“Yes, you’re right. But sacrifices need to be made,” he replied. Zade gave him a stern, questioning look. “We need to take this risk so we can prevent further calamity. Just imagine what could happen if we let this war get out of our control.” Zade sighed again, his gaze on Lucien not wavering. The tension in the air was electric.

“…You have a point,” Zade admitted. “Well, everybody? We’ll be putting ourselves—not to mention everybody else—in grave danger. But we may be able to end the war once and for all, and ensure the safety of everyone.”

“…I’m in,” Arryn announced. His tears were already gone, as if they were never there. He was still shaking. “We’ll make them pay. For everything.” Ulrich sighed.

“Count me in as well,” he added. “Prudence and celerity are vital in all walks of life.” Vera lowered her hands and let out an exasperated sigh, revealing her face. It was stained with tears, her expression dark and deeply troubled.

“Ok, that’s all well and good, but it’s far too risky,” she insisted. “It’s our responsibility to defend all the towns and their residents, no matter the circumstance. What about the demons headed to Jewelheart? What if they attack Grandstead?” Lucien glared at her.

“This isn’t just a gamble,” he rebutted. “It’s our only option. As much as I’d love to play it safe, that just isn’t something we can do. Not with The God Eater lurking around. Not without Erika.”

“But we can’t—!”

“VERA!” Lucien snapped, startling her into silence. Lucien’s expression softened, and he cleared his throat. “…I’m sorry,” he mumbled, thoroughly ashamed. “…I admire your concern, Vera, but you’ve got to understand. We can’t put the needs of the few over the needs of the many.”

“But, Lucien…” Vera whimpered. She took a deep breath. “Alright…I suppose we have no choice.” Corryl sat with his eyes closed and his hand on his chin. Lucien, taking notice, fixated on the claw mark in the center of Corryl’s face, a vertical scar spanning the bottom of his chin to the top of his forehead.

“…And you, Corryl?” Lucien asked. There was silence once more. Corryl sat impossibly still, his eyes still closed.

“…No objections.”

        The next morning, the gods split up to inform their soldiers of the plan. Lucien, Ulrich, and Vera were going to march directly through the Galeios Foothills to Sablerock Canyon. Zade, Corryl, and Arryn, on the other hand, prepared to go through Stormhead Badlands and Blackened Vale. As everyone made final preparations and prepared to leave, Zade spoke up.

“We can’t let Erika’s death be in vain, everyone!” He shouted. “Let’s end this war! Once and for all!” Every soldier in attendance roared with enthusiasm, and the two groups set off with reignited morale.

~

        The oppressive heat and sandy, dry air of Stormhead Badlands became quickly apparent as Zade’s group entered. Many soldiers were sent into coughing fits, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the air. Despite the discomfort, the battalion marched onward without complaint. However, as the afternoon sun neared its highest point, the sky began to grow dark. Foreboding, billowing clouds towered over the desert, all their rain evaporating instantly in the scorching desert heat—denying any sort of moisture to the incredibly sparse, gangly vegetation below. Not long after the dark, stormy clouds rolled in, the violent, explosive sound of intense thunder tore through the dry, dusty air, startling even Corryl. Zade didn’t seem very bothered by it, though he flinched along with everyone else.

        Zade directed the group underneath one of the large rock formations littered around the desert landscape, claiming it far too dangerous to be marching around without shelter for long.

“You’re much more likely to be struck if you’re out in the open,” Zade explained. “And trust me, you do NOT want to get struck around here. You’ll likely be scarred for life—if you’re lucky.” Nobody argued with Zade’s advice and closely followed his directions.

        “I’ve never seen a thunderstorm like this in my whole life,” Arryn remarked, wiping some sweat off his brow.

“They call it Stormhead Badlands for a reason,” Zade quipped. His amusement was cut short by another earsplitting boom. The air was suddenly tinged with an effervescent edge. The bolt had only just missed them, hitting the enormous rock formation they were standing under instead. The group kept moving, darting as quickly as they could between rock formations.

        The next closeby thunderbolt caught the battalion by surprise. As they ran to another rock formation, lightning struck a cactus near a large group of soldiers, miraculously missing them. Many of them were knocked over regardless, by the sheer power of the bolt.

“Teacher’s grace, that was close,” Zade gasped, as the soldiers who weren’t struck helped their peers up. “This is one hell of a storm we’ve got on our hands.”

“You think?” Arryn sneered. Zade rolled his eyes. Corryl was too absorbed in thought to react.

        On the horizon, an enormous spire stood tall above the sandy veil, a monumental tower of rock that could nearly scrape the clouds. The bolts that struck its peak were frighteningly audible even despite the distance. Underneath and around the spire, sheltered from the lightning by its imposing stature, rested an oasis town, the green of its lush foliage muted by the whipping desert winds. Zade pointed at the town from underneath his latest makeshift shelter.

“See that over there?” he announced. “That’s Jadesilt—A welcome sight indeed. We can rest there and hope the storm dies down a little. It gets even more treacherous from here.” Zade glanced at Arryn and Corryl for approval. Arryn gave a thumbs up, but Corryl was still off in his own world. “Something the matter, Corryl?” Corryl opened his eyes, glanced at Zade, and shook his head. Zade gave him a questioning look.

“…I was…worried about slowing our advance,” Corryl responded. Zade kept looking at Corryl.

“…We won’t stay any longer than we need to,” he promised. Corryl went back to pondering.

        After some more running and a few more close calls, the battalion arrived at Jadesilt. A skinny, decorated man with an exceptionally wide grin strolled up to greet them.

“…Nice weather we’re having!” he shouted over the din of the storm.

“Indeed,” Zade responded, smiling a little. In the awkward pause that followed, Corryl and Arryn quietly stepped back to let Zade do the talking.

“So…what brings an army of your size to Jadesilt, friends?” the man asked, wringing his hands.

“We mean no harm, sir,” Zade began, reading the man like an open book. “We’re just here to ride out the storm. We’ll be out of your way soon enough.” The man let out a silent sigh of relief.

“O-o-oh, no, please, make yourselves at home,” he insisted, a new, genuine smile spreading across his face. “We, er, gr-greatly appreciate your continued support against those…demon folk.”

“You’re welcome, sir, and thank you,” Zade said with a bow. “We won’t squander your hospitality.”

~

        The march through the Galeios Foothills was going better than expected; the winds weren’t half as bad as usual. The walk was rather calm, so Vera decided to take in the unique, if a little drab, view. Primeval, dilapidated structures covered the landscape, some impressive, but most rather unremarkable. Ulrich was spouting grandiose stories at the soldiers while Lucien followed along silently.

“…While my shipmates ran to the cannons, I lined the ship up!” Ulrich boomed, half of the soldiers listening in awe, while the other half paid no attention. “…I could see the scoundrels quaking in their boots even at that great a distance—no doubt realizing just how doomed they were! There was silence, save for the crashing of waves on the ship, and then…BOOM!” As if called by Ulrich’s exclamation, the wind suddenly surged with immense power, followed by a sharp crack. Shards of rock rode the wind, flying at the battalion like hundreds of tiny daggers, sending them diving for cover behind the nearest ruin. Vera gave Ulrich a snide look.

“If you could refrain from invoking nature’s wrath while telling your tall tales that’d be just grand,” she quipped. Ulrich frowned.

“They’re not  _tall tales_ …!” he grumbled to himself. “So…ahem…the cannons fired! And sure enough, they punctured straight through their hull!”

        Ulrich continued to tell his stories as the march went on. Vera, not paying any attention to Ulrich, noticed Lucien’s grim expression and walked closer. She stared at him as he walked forward mindlessly, staring at the ground.

“What are you thinking about, Lucien?” she asked. Lucien looked up.

“Oh…Nothing,” he replied dismissively. Vera furrowed her brow. “…I’m a little concerned, I suppose.”

“Is that all?” Vera asked. Lucien didn’t answer. “Don’t worry, Lucien, we’ll be fine!” she assured him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Lucien looked at her for a moment and gave her a faint, grim smile.

“Yes…You’re right,” he mumbled to himself, resuming his train of thought. Vera looked at him quizzically for a moment, but thought nothing of it, and decided to try listening to Ulrich again.

~

        Late next morning, Arryn and a few soldiers lounged in the local tavern. “Another, please!” Arryn shouted at the bartender, over the din of the other patrons. The bar was particularly full, packed with locals and angelic soldiers alike, all of them intermingling and talking about whatever struck their fancy. It was much cooler than Arryn had anticipated, even despite all the raucous customers and the searing desert sun shining through the tinted windows, as if by magic. It was still hot, but it was just enough to be relieving—and perhaps almost pleasant. The bartender, with a jaded and vacant expression, slid Arryn a new glass. Arryn caught it, took a gulp, and went back to telling one of his famous parables to a few of his soldiers.

        “…So then, when I was out of sight, I—get this—jumped into the moat. And let me tell you, it was  _filthy_ .” Arryn took another gulp. His soldiers stared at him, eager to hear the rest. “There was loads of dirt and all kinds of other shit everywhere. But I stayed under there. I held my breath until it felt like my head was gonna explode.”

“So you got away?” one of the soldiers asked, grinning.

“Naturally!” Arryn boasted. “The guards ran right on by. I swam the other direction and bolted back to my hideout—completely unscathed… _and_  u nseen.”

“Woooah…” all Arryn’s spectators chorused.

“Unsurprisingly, I got sick as a dog the next day. I was bedridden for at least a week. But it beat rotting in one of those dingy ass dungeon cells of theirs—probably would’ve gotten twice as sick in one of them. Assuming I wouldn’t be in the gallows soon after, that is.” The soldiers nodded in unison as Arryn drank some more.

        While Arryn answered some of the soldiers’ questions, Corryl walked in.

“We’re leaving soon,” Corryl announced.

“Let me finish my drink,” Arryn replied.

“…You oughtn’t be getting drunk in the middle of a military operation,” Corryl remarked. Arryn waved his hand dismissively.

“I’m not drunk,” he insisted. “I hold my ale well. It’s fine.”

“Yes, but in principle—”

“Principle this, principle that!” Arryn sneered, finishing off his ale. “I wouldn’t be drinking right now if I knew it’d come back to bite me in the ass. Ulrich’s taught me as much.” Corryl sighed.

“I’m just looking out for you. Making sure you don’t do anything stupid, in Ulrich’s stead.”

“Have you that little faith in me?” Arryn asked, smiling.

“…No,” Corryl responded with a nearly imperceptible smile. “I’m just being cautious. You know how I am.” He shook his head, turned away, and began to walk out. “Zade and the others are waiting outside.”

“Understood!” Arryn shouted, putting some gold coins on the countertop for the bartender. “Hey, thanks for putting up with us, barkeep,” he said, standing up and stretching. The bartender almost smiled.

“Just doing my job,” he sighed.

~

        Once everyone was present, Zade led the battalion back out into the brunt of the desert. It was much less treacherous without the thunderstorm, and the sun was past its peak, casting a sliver of shade over the westmost desert. The battalion hugged the west cliff wall, reveling in the coolness of its shadow. Despite the improved conditions, Zade seemed antsy, walking unusually quickly and requesting that everybody else do the same.

        As they walked, a vast cave came into view, as well as a group of people in sandy-colored robes, sprinting at full speed in the direction of the battalion. Arryn noticed them first.

“Is it just me or are those people running at us?” Arryn asked.

“Marauders?” Zade asked himself. Then his eyes widened. “Oh no. Oh, Teacher’s grace…” Corryl took a little longer to process what was going on, but when he did, froze in place all the same. Arryn looked at them both in confusion.  
“What’s wrong with you two?” he asked.

“Have you ever heard of The Elder’s Den?” Corryl replied.

“In passing,” Arryn answered, still confused. “Is that it?” Then it hit him. “…Oh,  _shit_ .”

        Upon closer inspection, some of the marauders were carrying eggs big as their torsos, waddling as fast as they could, holding the eggs in both hands. Corryl’s face twisted into a disdainful frown.

“What are they even doing with those eggs?” he grunted, mostly to himself. Zade answered, regardless.

“Didn’t you know? The marauder’s main source of income is dragon eggs. Or, at least, it used to be.” Corryl let out an exasperated sigh.

“Just our luck,” he grumbled. “It’s always money, isn’t it? Who even buys them?” Zade shrugged and turned around.

“Everybody, we need to retreat, NOW.” Nobody had the time to question why before a deafening roar echoed throughout the desert.

        A monstrous head with shimmering yellow scales poked out of the den. It looked about and let out another earsplitting roar, no less terrifying than the last. The creature exited the cave and spread the massive wings on its back, the ground slightly rumbling with every single step it took. It was positively enormous, large enough for ten full-grown men to ride on it’s back with a little room to spare. Even the stoniest of soldiers in the battalion quaked in fear at the sight of the monstrous elder dragon.

        Zade wasted no time in leading everybody away from the dragon and toward a large stone plateau. Everybody ran as fast as their legs could carry them, their minds too clouded by fear and panic to question as to where Zade was taking them. Before the battalion could get to the plateau, a sharp, startling crack caught their attention, stopping them in their tracks. They looked back to see the marauders, much closer than they expected, frozen in terror. In front of one of them was a single cracked egg, carelessly dropped, clear fluid oozing out and permeating into the sand. The dragon stopped with a start and took a brief moment to process what had just happened.

        Its stare shifted to the marauders, then the broken egg, and back. Its eyes filled with fury and murder. Taking a deep breath in, it slammed its feet into the sand, spread its wings, and bellowed at the top of its lungs, the sheer power of its roar shaking the ground and knocking a couple of marauders and angelic soldiers off their feet. The dragon sprinted toward the marauders, sand flying everywhere as its gigantic feet hit the ground. The angelic soldiers ran away even faster than before. Nothing mattered anymore except getting away from the dragon as soon as humanly possible.

        When the battalion got to the plateau, Zade led them onto a slope up to the top. As they ascended, they had a clear view of the battle between the marauders and the dragon. Some brave souls stood their ground and fought while the others ran. However, their bravery was wasted on the dragon’s raw power. The dragon swatted soldiers away left and right with its massive claws, like they were just as meaningless as the sand it trod on. Those that weren’t clawed away weren’t nearly as lucky. The dragon reached down and caught three of the marauders in its mouth. It gnashed its teeth, grinding the marauders into pieces. Crimson red blood spattered out, gushing and oozing out through the dragon’s clenched teeth and onto the sand below. The dragon raised its head to swallow the marauders and shook its head to get the excess blood off its face.

        The surviving marauders, realizing individual attack wasn’t working, grouped up to attack in unison. That was another mistake. The dragon reared its head as the marauders charged, breathing in deeply. It then thrust its head forward and opened its toothy maw. In that next instant, a colossal bolt of electricity erupted from its mouth and struck the group of approaching soldiers with a deafening crack, vaporizing them in an instant. Those that had stayed to fight were clearly outmatched, and ran away in a hopeless attempt to catch up with their friends.

        The battalion reached the top of the plateau, and their destination, a large cave big enough for them but just barely too small for the dragon, was now in sight. The battalion ran faster than they ever had before in their lives, desperate to get to safety. The sound of the raging dragon spurred them on. They were just a little more than halfway there when they were startled by another roar.

        Another dragon with fiery red scales, a bit bigger than the last, dropped onto the plateau with a heavy slam, landing in between the battalion and the cave. The battalion stopped in their tracks as the dragon looked down at them, its reptilian eyes stern and cold. Zade, calmer than ever, walked forward toward the dragon. Corryl and Arryn stared at him in confusion.

“ZADE, ARE YOU INSANE?!” Arryn yelled. Zade didn’t look back.

        When Zade neared the red dragon, it lowered its head to his level, meeting his eyes. Zade laid a hand on its scaly snout and spoke in a soothing voice that was only just barely audible over the sound of the furious yellow dragon below.

“Eaaaasy, now…eaaasy…” he said, stroking the dragon gently. It abruptly lifted its head, let out a vaguely irritated snort, and turned away. It crouched, raised its wings, and jumped into the air, taking flight to rejoin its sister. The gust from the dragon’s mighty leap knocked over everyone unprepared for it.

        Everybody stared at Zade in awe as he walked back, a pleased smile on his face.

“H…HOW DID YOU DO THAT?” Arryn yelled. Zade exhaled in amusement.

“It’s…a long story,” he responded, scratching the back of his head. “I’ll tell you later. We need to get going.” The battalion eagerly left the dragons to their prey and escaped into the cave.

        The cave quickly turned into a steep slope down into the desert underground. The air was ever so slightly cool—cold as ice in comparison to the heat the army had just emerged from. The battalion walked in silence for a while before deciding to stop and take a short rest, to cool down after their mad dash away from the elder dragons. As they rested, a quiet, rushing sound percolated through the cavern walls.

“Is that…water?” Arryn thought aloud, sitting against the wall and shaking sand out of his boots.

“There’s an underground canal in The Elder’s Den nearby,” Zade answered, getting all the sand out from his raiments with impressive efficiency. “That may be why it’s so cool down here. Rumor has it the dragons themselves made the canal to supply the den with water.”

“Sounds like a myth to me,” Arryn remarked.

“I thought so too, at first, but those dragons are a hell of a lot smarter than you’d think.” Zade shrugged. “We’ve got a ways to go, everybody. Enjoy the lull in heat while it lasts.”

        The rhythm of the battalion’s footsteps and the quiet rushing of water gave the cavern an air of tranquility, and yet, lingering pangs of tension hung in the air as they drew closer and closer to the rendezvous point. It wasn’t too long before the battle, now.

~

        To Vera’s surprise, Ulrich still hadn’t exhausted his supply of tales from the sea. Though she hadn’t intended to, she found herself getting swept up in the stories right alongside the other soldiers. There was something endearing and exciting about in the way Ulrich told them, regardless if they were exaggerated or not. And yet, she had the nagging feeling that something was missing. She looked around for a brief moment before realizing Lucien was not there.

        “Ulrich?” Vera interrupted, to no avail. Ulrich kept talking in his theatrical storytelling voice, gesticulating dramatically. “Ulrich!” Vera yelled again, over Ulrich.

“What is it?” he sighed. “I was just getting to the best part.”

“Where’s Lucien?” Ulrich’s eyes widened, and he looked around. He couldn’t see Lucien anywhere.

“I…I don’t know,” he answered. “He-he was here earlier, while we were resting, right?”

“I think so?” Vera replied. She could have sworn he was there, but she wasn’t sure. The soldiers began to whisper and gossip amongst themselves.

“Where could he have gone…?” Ulrich wondered aloud.

        Vera had an idea, but she hoped it wasn’t true. Lucien said he was fine, but he was clearly anxious. Not scared, but Lucien wasn’t the type to get scared. What was he so anxious about? He was the one who came up with the plan to begin with. Why would he be so worried unless he thought something was wrong? Vera thought she saw a looming shadow out of the corner of her eye back while she was resting. She’d dismissed it as nothing at the time, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. What if it was The God Eater? What if he was coming for her and Ulrich next? Fear and grief flooded over Vera, making her head spin and her body stiff. Her heart rate quickened, and her vision began to pulse in time with it. She missed Erika enough already; she could see her friendly, nervous smile so clearly, it was as if she were right there. But no matter how much Vera wished she was, she wasn’t; she was gone, forever. Vera’s eyes were covered by a film of tears that wouldn’t fall out. She didn’t want Lucien to be gone as well.

        Vera heard the sound of distant shouting and rumbling over the pounding in her head. Through her bleary, unfocused eyes, she saw an amorphous mass of black and pale red. Vera blinked away the tears and rubbed her eyes. Straight ahead of the angelic battalion was a gargantuan wave of demons, about half of the entire demonic army. It was if they appeared out of nowhere. Vera could hear Ulrich drawing his cutlass.

        “Everyone prepare for battle!” He shouted. Once the demons had drawn closer, he and the rest of the soldiers charged forward into battle. Ulrich waved with his free hand, and from it burst forth a towering wall of water that slammed into the demonic frontline like a ton of rocks. After giving himself a brief moment to recover, Ulrich thrust his hand forward again and knocked one of the behemoths over with a tremendous, surging pillar of water. Vera shook her head, dragging herself back into reality, and drew her sword.

        Vera scanned the demonic battalion to get an idea of what she was up against. It was the typical arrangement, but on a much grander scale. A line of footsoldiers and cavalry composed the frontline, followed up by elite soldiers and behemoths, and behind them the archers and mages. They only barely outnumbered the angelic battalion. Vera took a deep breath and rushed to rejoin Ulrich. Things were about to get messy.

~

        Eventually, Zade and the rest of the battalion made it to the end of the cave, the faint smell of ash nipping at their noses before they’d even exited. As they emerged, outspread a foreboding, yet oddly beautiful vista of Blackened Vale. It was a sea of dark greys and harsh blacks with the occasional orange river of lava. The multiple crevasses scattered around emanated a faint red light, from massive streams of molten rock below. The glow of the moon and the lava underneath it gave the landscape an eerie, almost ethereal look.

        Not long after they’d exited the cave, the battalion decided to stop and rest, before delving into the heart of the scorched valley. Arryn had left with some of the soldiers to get some high ground and keep watch while everyone else got settled. Zade was giving the rest of the soldiers a pep talk, a good few of them still shaken up by their encounter with the elder dragons.

        Corryl sat away from everyone else to think, despite the fact he’d been doing it the whole trip. He hadn’t been able to pinpoint what was bothering him earlier, but the moment of respite allowed him to meditate, and think clearer. With some deep, thorough introspection, Corryl identified the disturbance; a nagging feeling in the back of his head, like he’d forgotten something. Corryl stared rigidly into nothing, trying to think of what might have triggered the anxiety. The sound of Zade’s voice was invigorating, yet soothing. It eased Corryl’s racing thoughts. But something still bothered him. He just couldn’t figure out what it was. Was it dread? It felt like his subconscious was trying to tell him something. Perhaps trying to warn him.

        “Corryl, is something wrong?” Corryl heard Zade’s voice say. He snapped back into reality to see Zade standing in front of him, finished with his speech.

“…No. Nothing’s wrong,” Corryl said.

“I can tell by your face,” Zade continued. “You’ve been acting like this the whole trip.  _Something's_ the matter. What is it?” Corryl sighed, slowly lifting himself off the ground. He stretched with a prolonged groan.

“I can’t describe it,” he began. “I’ve just got a bad feeling about all this. It feels like I’m forgetting something, almost, but not exactly…” Zade nodded, scratching the short stubble on his face.

“Why, do you think?”

“I don’t know. That’s exactly what I’ve been mulling over.” Corryl rolled his shoulders and stretched some more. “…I think Lucien felt it too,” he announced. Zade titled his head.

“What do you mean?”

“He seemed awfully…defensive, didn’t he?” Corryl pointed out. “Like he was trying to justify his own plan to himself.”

“I see what you mean, now that you mention it…” Zade mumbled. Corryl shook his head and sighed again.

“I know it’s all in my head. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Zade asserted, putting a hand on Corryl’s shoulder and holding it firmly. “It’s always ok to open up, alright?”

Corryl stared at Zade with the same unshakeable expression as always. Then, all of the sudden, he let a subdued smile escape onto his face.

“Thanks, Zade,” he rumbled.

        Just as Corryl began to walk away and back to the rest of the group, Arryn rushed up to them with a panicked look.

“Zade! Corryl!” He shouted.

“What is it?!” Zade shouted back, startled. Arryn took a deep breath and composed himself.

“There was a horde of demons waiting by the main passage from Stormhead Badlands to here,” Arryn told them. “They must have seen us while we were scouting. Now they’re approaching from all sides!”

“An ambush?” Zade asked himself. “How did they know we were coming…?”

“I don’t know, but it sure seems like it,” Arryn mused. “Those dragons saved our lives.”

“How many do you think there are?” Corryl demanded. Arryn took another deep breath.

“Half the entire demonic army. At  _least_ .” Zade and Corryl stared at Arryn, wide-eyed. “Well? What do we do?”

“…We need to escape,” Zade decided. “We’re surrounded and unprepared. We’ll need to evacuate the soldiers back through the caves; I doubt the demons know their way through them.” Arryn and Corryl nodded. “We’ll need to move now, and fast,” Zade continued. “It’ll be hard for all of us to get through that cave entrance quickly. It’s not big enough.”

“Got it,” Arryn barked, dashing off to give the rest of the battalion the grave news. Zade and Corryl followed. They could already hear the quiet, distant sound of rumbling footsteps.

~

        Everybody immediately understood the urgency of the situation and quickly hastened back toward and into the caves. Progress was slow, as expected, but there was still time. Not much of it, though. The rumbling footsteps were getting louder. The battalion could just barely hear the sounds of demonic war cries. Arryn volunteered to enter first and lead the soldiers, arguing he was the best at disciplining them. He insisted he’d memorized the way last time they went through. Zade decided to trust him and helped Corryl get everyone inside.

        Zade suddenly began to feel anxious as he and Corryl helped the soldiers into the cave. He looked around cautiously, the sound of the approaching demonic army getting clearer by the minute. Something caught Zade’s eye as he scanned his surroundings—a nearly imperceptible millisecond of movement in the corner of his eye. Zade drew his sword, and in that very same moment, it clashed with a pair of black steel claws. Zade glowered at his attacker, a dark, silent figure. Zade recognized the figure immediately. There was no forgetting the hooded, shadowy visage of The God Eater.

        Corryl, hearing the sound of clashing metal, whirled around to see Zade standing off against The God Eater. He abandoned the soldiers and rushed to help. A myriad of stones formed around his arm, and he threw a punch at The God Eater with all his might. The God Eater barely avoided it, leaping away from the two of them.

“Forget about me!” Zade yelled.

“Zade, you can’t fight him alone!” Corryl yelled back, as The God Eater ran forward and clashed with Zade again. Zade held fast, keeping his eyes locked on The God Eater.

“Don’t worry about me!” he persisted. “Get the soldiers to safety!”

“But, Zade—”

“GO!!” Zade interrupted, shouting at the top of his lungs. Corryl stood firm for a moment, then, begrudgingly, ran to get the rest of the soldiers through the cave. The God Eater attempted to give chase, but Zade got in the way, clashing with him once more.

        As the last soldier got into the cave, Corryl turned around and raised his fist. Green energy began to pulse through his body and focused into his right hand. With incredible strength, Corryl slammed his fist into the ground, the green energy diffusing through it in every direction. The cave entrance rumbled and cracked violently until finally it was covered in an avalanche of rocky debris, blocking any and all hope of entry. The God Eater scoffed in irritation as Zade pushed him away. He locked eyes with Zade, his vicious, emotionless gaze sending chills down Zade’s spine just as it had during the battle at Brinewall. Zade prepared himself and clutched the handle of his sword tightly.

        The God Eater lunged forward, raising his right claw and aiming for Zade’s throat. Zade raised his sword to block it, then quickly lowered it to block the follow-up strike. The God Eater didn’t relent for even a fraction of a second, throwing blow after blow at blinding speed. Zade struggled to keep up, only just barely blocking or dodging the attacks. He attempted to push The God Eater away and give himself some space, but The God Eater stuck to him like glue, not allowing a single moment of respite. Zade felt his arms getting tired, and The God Eater showed no signs of slowing down, impossibly efficient. Zade began to channel light into his arms as he blocked The God Eater’s attacks, and when the time was right, he rammed his palm into The God Eater’s face. Out from his hand erupted a blinding pulse of magic, sending The God Eater stumbling backward in shock and covering his eyes.

        Zade hunched over to catch his breath, his hands on his knees. By the time he raised his head, The God Eater was already rushing forward again, his face filled to the brim with savage wrath. Zade stabbed at The God Eater as he approached. The God Eater dodged to the left, deftly avoiding the thrust, and countered with his own. Zade, given no other option, dropped to his knees to avoid it, the cold, razor-sharp metal of The God Eater’s claws missing Zade’s nose by no more than a hair. Thinking quickly, Zade swept The God Eater’s feet out from under him while he dropped. The God Eater did a handspring back onto his feet before he could hit the ground and glowered at Zade, trembling with adrenaline and frustration.

        The God Eater ran forward again, so Zade raised his sword in anticipation of another swipe. The God Eater instead uppercutted with his claws, catching Zade’s sword in between them. With one single, bewildering motion, The God Eater tore Zade’s sword out of his hands and sent it careening into the gravel. Zade, not letting himself panic, slammed The God Eater in the face with a light imbued punch. Pain shot through Zade’s knuckles as a loud, fleshy crack erupted from the impact, tiny black flecks splattering onto his hand. With his other hand, Zade threw another radiant punch, this time into The God Eater’s midriff, knocking the wind out of him. The God Eater doubled over hard, and fell to his knees. Zade used the few precious moments he’d garnered for himself to reclaim his sword.

        Zade bent down to grab his sword. When he stood up, he saw The God Eater already back on his feet and sprinting at full speed toward him. Zade let The God Eater come, dodged his attack, and countered with a single calculated slash. The sword cleaved right through The God Eater’s light armor and left a huge diagonal gash across his chest. Ebony blood gushed out, soaking The God Eater’s clothes and the ground underneath him. The God Eater screamed in pain, his eyes ablaze.

        Zade felt his adrenaline surge; he’d gained the initiative. He ran forward to attack The God Eater while he was still weakened. The God Eater, still hunched over in pain, began to crackle with dark taupe energy, his entire body convulsing. Zade grinded to a halt and braced for impact. In the very next instant, The God Eater exploded with power, sending Zade flying into the air and onto his back. Sparks of dark taupe magic cascaded throughout the ground where the blast had scarred it. Even though Zade was ready for it, the blast had still blindsided him with its astonishing might, knocking the wind out of him and sapping all his energy away. Zade got back on his feet to prepare for The God Eater’s next attack, but the muscles in his arms wouldn’t quite work. The God Eater enveloped his claws in the same dark taupe energy and slashed Zade across the face with one claw, and then again with the other. Zade stumbled backward, shaking all over, just barely able to stay on his feet.

        All the feeling in Zade’s body drained away. He couldn’t feel his arms, or his legs, or his head. He felt trapped inside his body, completely and utterly numb, deprived of all sensation. Instead of following up, The God Eater just watched as Zade tried desperately to do something, anything. Zade didn’t even have the strength to collapse onto the ground. All his limbs simultaneously felt as solid as rock and limp as wet paper. Even his blinking felt slow and weak. The scenery around him turned into a swirling grey void. The only other things he could see besides the undulating nothing around him was The God Eater and his sadistic, empty glare. Through his daze, Zade could hear the rumble of the approaching demonic soldiers.

        The God Eater stood still, merely watching Zade struggle. Zade was too tired to be outraged. After what felt like ages of just staring at Zade, The God Eater finally began to walk forward, his claws glowing with ghastly magic once more. Terror usurped all of Zade’s leftover energy. He couldn’t move, and yet couldn’t stop shivering. He didn’t even know it was possible for one man to be this afraid. He felt it deep in the core of his very being, and felt its influence drown every remote facet of his body. He wanted to cry, but he simply wasn’t able to.

        “This…is it, then,” he whispered to himself, far too quietly for anyone to hear. The pain and fear began to feel warm, pleasant, as if his soul itself had gone numb. Zade struggled to keep his eyes open, but he no longer had agency over his own body. His eyes slowly fell more and more until he was entirely wrapped in black, and the drowsiness grew insurmountable. For a moment or two, Zade slept, or at least, felt something akin to sleep. No longer did his lack of control bother him. It was almost cathartic. But something deep inside Zade rebelled—something transcending the drowsiness in his eyes, the pain in his body, the complete, ultimate terror in his heart. With great effort, Zade opened his eyes a tiny slit.

        All of the sudden, the swirling void all around began to trickle away. Zade didn’t notice it at first, then suddenly realized he could see again. His feet were firmly planted on the ground once more, and the faint glow of Blackened Vale’s charred landscape had returned. The demonic army was now in view, and far too close for comfort. Zade could even feel his arms and legs again. He tensed them involuntarily, unaccustomed to the feeling of feeling. His body felt warm and renewed, and his adrenaline surged once more. The God Eater didn’t seem to notice. Zade desperately searched for a way to save himself when he spotted a minute flash of light in his peripheral vision, a glint of orange in the speckled inky darkness of the sky.

        Zade glanced upward to see a volley of explosive spells arcing above. His eyes widened, brimming with inspiration and newfound hope. The explosive spells reached their peak and began to careen downward toward the ground. Zade took a step back, unfurled his wings, and spread them wide. The God Eater did a double take at Zade. He looked up, and when he saw the spells, his eyes widened as well. Refocusing on Zade, The God Eater’s eyes began to smoulder with indignation. Zade bent his knees, closed his eyes, and jumped upward as high as he could. The explosive spells hit the ground. They erupted with fiery energy and a deafening crack, sending debris and bits of gravel flying everywhere. Zade, catching the force of the explosions in his wings, soared high into the sky and far out of The God Eater’s reach.

        Zade tucked in his wings, plummeted downward, and then opened them again, sailing forward in a high-speed glide. He couldn’t help but laugh as he heard The God Eater howling and screaming in the distance, over the ringing in his ears. The God Eater ran after Zade in vain, leaving the rest of the demonic army behind. The entirety of Blackened Vale was sent into a panicked screaming, the enormous mass of demons chasing Zade and The God Eater as fast as they could. Zade, taking full advantage of his momentum, flew over the cliffs separating Blackened Vale and Stormhead Badlands, and into one of Stormhead Badland’s many caves.

        A couple of minutes later, the demonic army got to the caves as well. They splintered into groups, searching every pathway they could find, but no matter where they turned, they couldn’t find Zade or any traces of him anywhere. Even the demons guarding the entrances hadn’t seen him. Zade had vanished into thin air.

~

        Vera was growing fatigued from all the fighting. Nevertheless, she continued to fire lightning bolt after lightning bolt into the unending onslaught of demonic soldiers, supporting her own soldiers as best she could. It didn’t help that Ulrich had disappeared as well, not all too long ago. Her thoughts were already plagued by Lucien’s disappearance, and Ulrich’s only made her worry more. She constantly kept an eye out for The God Eater. She’d never seen him herself, but she could feel his presence. It was fearsome, authoritative, and prevalent no matter where Vera stood.

        The battle was wearing her out quickly, especially without the help of the other gods. Her soldiers fought valiantly, relieving some of the burden, but not by much. Vera took a moment to reevaluate the situation. Despite all her hard work, the demonic battalion seemed just as insurmountable as ever.

        Vera felt an overwhelming sorrow rising within her as a demonic colonel on top of an armored behemoth pointed his sword at her and the rest of the soldiers. The wave of demons surged forward again. Vera slowly raised her sword, struggling to see why she should keep fighting at all. Then it hit her, all at once. A wave of rage at the demons, and herself. A rush of adrenaline that tingled through her body. The faint, nearly imperceptible sound of Erika’s voice cheering her on. This fight was far from over.

        Vera dashed into battle faster than ever, into the bowels of the demonic horde. At the top of her lungs she yelled to her soldiers. They roared back and followed her in, cascading forward in a headlong assault. Unprepared for Vera’s sudden charge, the first few demons went down without a fight. The next few, though they tried, could not handle Vera’s incredible speed. Slashing and blocking incomprehensibly fast, Vera tore through the ranks as the demons frantically attempted to regain control of the battle. Noticing the colonel’s behemoth sprinting toward her as she fought, Vera separated herself from the immediate action to focus. With great effort, electricity surged throughout her, arcing across her entire body. She began to shake, her muscles convulsing from the force of her strain. Once she’d gathered enough energy, Vera raised her hand and swung it downward. A monumental bolt of electricity erupted from the sky, into the behemoth and its rider at impossible speed. Both of them were immediately struck dead, without so much as a fraction of a millisecond to scream out in pain. Surrounding demonic soldiers were sent flying by an explosion of rubble and residual electricity. All that remained of the behemoth and its rider was a massive crater in the rocky earth where they once stood.

        Vera, entirely spent, tried with all her being to stay on her feet. A stray arrow sailing through the air foiled her plans, striking her square in the shoulder. Vera collapsed onto the ground. Some soldiers swooped in to carry her away. Vera, only half conscious, tried to get on her feet, stand up, and keep fighting, but her body was too fatigued to listen.

        Tears involuntarily dribbled down Vera’s face as one of the medics fussed over her, inside a makeshift tent one of the other medics had put up earlier. The ground was stained with blood from the previous patients. Her various wounds couldn’t hold a candle to the pain of the fatigue she’d inflicted upon herself; and yet, she longed to run out of the tent and rejoin the fight. She feared for her soldiers, for Lucien and Ulrich, and for the other gods’ group as well. But she didn’t have the energy to continue fighting, and the medic implored her to relax, to regain at the very least a fraction of her energy. And so, she acquiesced.

        Vera’s angst was interrupted by footsteps outside. They were quiet, almost inaudible, but Vera noticed them immediately. While she struggled to get off her back and stand up, a tall, dark figure stepped into the tent. Vera’s heart skipped a beat before she realized it was Lucien, with his wings unfurled. He looked tired and stern. The tears started trickle down again.

“L-Lucien! What are you doing here? Where have you been?!” Vera kept trying to lift herself off the bed. She couldn’t, and laid back down with a sigh. “I-I was so worried…”

        Lucien didn’t say a word. The tent was deathly silent. Vera lifted her head and brushed her dirty blonde hair to the side, to look Lucien in the eyes. They were cold and emotionless. Lucien wasn’t always the most emotional, but his eyes were far more steely than usual; they made Vera shudder.

“A-a-are you ok?” she stuttered. Lucien still didn’t respond. He kept staring, lost in thought. Vera tried again. “Have you seen Ulrich? He-he vanished just a while ago…” Lucien averted his eyes, and his face got dark. Vera stared at him, baffled. “Di-did you see him? What happened?” Lucien locked eyes with Vera again. There was menace in them this time. “What’s wrong with you?” Vera gasped, desperately.

        Lucien’s skin looked oddly flushed, and it was growing redder by the second. It grew redder and redder until it had all turned into a profound, dusty-rose color. His eyes turned from a brownish black to crimson. Upon closer inspection, he looked taller and more muscular, too. Vera then noticed a pair of glossy black horns on Lucien’s head. His wings, instead of feathery and white, were now leathery and red.

        "…Lucien…?” Vera whimpered. Lucien’s gaze softened a tiny bit. He averted his eyes again.

“Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be,” he said, in a voice an octave deeper than usual. And yet, despite the difference, it was painfully familiar. Was this his real voice? Vera blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend what was going on. She reached for her sword, but her arm was too numb to grip it. She tried to sit up, but she couldn’t. Lucien walked closer. That same terrifying, authoritative aura she’d felt earlier grew until it was practically unbearable. In Lucien’s hand, dark energy began to crackle.

        “It’s…a shame, really,” Lucien sighed. “The Grand Teacher works in mysterious ways, doesn’t he?” Vera tried to stutter out a response, but the tears in her throat choked her. “Close your eyes,” Lucien whispered. “I’ll make this as painless as possible.” At first, Vera kept trying to sit up, trying to do something, trying to stop Lucien. But it was no use. She looked at Lucien again, but Lucien wouldn’t meet her gaze anymore. She rested her head and took a deep breath. At the very least, she might be able to see Erika again.

 

 

 

        The only sound in the entire house was the ticking of the grandfather clock. The birds outside periodically sang to each other. The light of the early evening sun shone through the windows, lighting up the living room. Thea sat in her usual chair, reading a novel and trying in vain to forget her worrying. Tears threatened to fall again. She suppressed them.

        All of the sudden, Thea was startled by the sound of tiny, gentle footsteps coming from the stairs in the other room. She looked up from her novel to see her two-year-old son, Allen, slowly and cautiously climbing down the steps. Thea sighed. She could have sworn she’d closed the bedroom door. She never understood how Allen could so consistently slip through her fingers.

        Allen, upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, bumbled around the room for a few moments before walking up to Thea. He stood on his toes and reached up at her. Thea put down her novel and picked Allen up, cradling him in her lap.

“Daddy?” Allen asked. Thea averted her eyes, almost letting her tears out.

“Daddy isn’t home yet,” she whispered, her voice wavering. Allen gave her a confused, demanding look. “He…he’ll be home soon, honey.”

        Thea couldn’t help but assume the worst. The army hadn’t even sent a messenger explaining her husband’s absence. He should have been home a long time ago, and yet, she still hadn’t heard anything from anyone. Thea considered leaving the house and asking around, but she felt vulnerable and powerless enough inside, let alone outside. Allen kept staring at her with a blank, inquisitive expression. She couldn’t help but feel like he was judging her. Impulsively, she lifted Allen up and hugged him. All too often did she wish she was half as resolute as her precious baby boy.

        Allen nuzzled his head into his mother’s stomach and fell asleep. Thea sighed with a heavy heart, and picked up her novel again. She was stuck on the same sentence for ages. Her mind kept wandering off to things she desperately didn’t want to think about. With great effort, she kept her breathing and heartbeat steady, so as not to bother Allen.

        A few agonizing minutes later, a loud knocking on the door rang through the room. Allen awoke with a start, more disgruntled than upset. Thea lifted him off her lap with an apologetic smile and stood up.

“Who is it?” she called, walking to the door.

“Arryn,” a somber, empty voice called back. Thea’s heart snapped in two and sunk deep into her stomach. She kept holding back the tears.

        Thea opened the door and greeted Arryn, doing an exceptionally poor job of hiding her distress. It wasn’t the Arryn she remembered. He had the same short, messy hair, the same roughened skin, but he wasn’t the same. He looked defeated.

“What…what brings you here?” Thea croaked. Arryn looked over his shoulder.

        Corryl walked up to the house from behind, supporting Zade on his shoulder. Zade looked so tired and battered it was as if he’d been dragged through the depths of hell and back. Perhaps he had.

“I-I’m good from here, Corryl,” he groaned. Corryl didn’t budge an inch as Zade tried to stand up on his own, and failed. “R-really. Just…ugh…just give me a moment. I’m fine.” Corryl bowed his head and reluctantly let Zade off his shoulder. Zade staggered a bit and lifted his head. On his face were two perpendicular, dark red scars.

        Thea lost track of the world around her. The tears she’d been holding back for days on end all came out at once, turning her into a heaving wreck. She felt Zade hugging her tightly and whispering words she couldn’t understand. By the time the tears had thinned enough for her to see again, her face was buried in Zade’s shoulder, and both Corryl and Arryn were gone. Zade was holding her steady, despite being rather unsteady himself.

        Allen stumbled into the antechamber to see what the commotion was about. He patted Thea’s leg in a vain attempt to calm her down, before noticing the scarred mess of a man who’d just walked into his home. Allen toddled over to Zade, looking up at him with a bewildered expression. Zade, crouching down to Allen’s level, smiled as wide as he could manage. Allen reached out and felt the scars on Zade’s face with his tiny, pudgy hand. Zade strived to keep smiling as he winced in pain under Allen’s touch.

“Daddy,” Allen declared.

“That’s right, Allen, it’s daddy.” Zade picked Allen up and spun him around. Allen burst into a fit of giggling and squealing. “Everything’s ok. Daddy’s home.”


	2. The Heir of Hope

        An hour or two past midnight, the Dawnforge house was perfectly quiet, utterly tranquil. But young, 5-year-old Allen Dawnforge couldn’t sleep. He could have sworn he’d heard something just a moment ago. Footsteps. They were nearly inaudible, but Allen could sense them. He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not, but whatever the case, they wouldn’t go away. After a few more sleepless moments, Allen gave in to curiosity and approached the door to his room. He placed his hand on the knob and turned it as slowly as he could manage, opening the door just enough for him to peek out. He saw nothing. Just the same old house he knew and loved, shrouded in the black of night.

        Allen could still feel the footsteps. It had to have been one of his parents, suffering the same insomnia. Nevertheless, he slipped out of his room and began down the hall, drawn to the footsteps like a moth to a flame. He traversed the hall in time with the gentle ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs to further conceal the sound of his bare feet on the semisoft carpeted floor. When he reached the end of the hall, he peeked around the corner, and lo and behold, there was nothing. He could feel the footsteps downstairs.

        Allen crept down the stairs, careful to avoid making a shred of sound, before reaching the bottom. He walked over to the living room, barely able to see through the darkness, and peeked around the corner. There, he saw a stranger. A stranger he knew all too well; A tall figure with what looked like a pair of long, razor-sharp claws. Allen must have gasped, because in the next instant, the figure’s blazing white eyes snapped onto him like a predator’s after catching a glimpse of its prey.

        Before Allen even had the time to think about what to do next, he was already running, the shadowy figure right on his heels. First, Allen tried to lose the figure around a corner and hide, but it was too fast. It was a miracle Allen hadn’t been caught already. His thoughts were clouded by a thick, impenetrable fog of adrenaline and panic, leaving room for little else besides running as fast as his body could allow. Under any other circumstance, Allen would have collapsed in a defeated heap by now—instead, he forced himself to run even faster.

        With great reluctance, Allen sprinted toward the front door, threw it open, and darted out into the frigid night. His feet seemed to stick to the ground, like he was running through an ocean of molasses. The figure was gaining on him. Allen unfurled his tiny, developing wings and flapped them furiously, in a futile attempt to run just a little bit faster. Through the clouded fog in his brain, Allen thought he could hear his mother frantically calling after him, as a chilly, tingling sensation shot through both of his wings.

        Then the pain hit him. The entirety of his back was plunged into a terrible, scorching pain. His body grew colder and colder by the second as blood gushed out from where his wings used to be. He face-planted into the dirt, writhing in agony. The pain grew and grew into an overwhelming crescendo of torment, until finally, Allen awoke in his bed, sitting straight up and drenched in a cold sweat. He was back in the angelic stronghold. Allen took a deep breath and collapsed back onto his bed. The stumps on his back still ached, but nothing could compare to the pain he felt on that fateful day, fourteen years ago.

~

        Only a moment later, there was a knocking on Allen’s door. Allen took a deep breath and curled up in his bed to gather up all the warmth. The knocking rang out again.

“Who is it?” Allen called out, clearing his throat.

“It’s me, Sarah,” a familiar, pleasant voice responded.

“What do you want…?” Allen grunted, still curled up. The door opened a crack, letting an almost blinding sliver of light into the room. A girl about his age with long, light-brown hair peeked in.

“You, me and Connor were going to go to the festival, remember?” Allen remained motionless.

“Right…that,” he mumbled. Sarah stared at the unflinching lump of blankets on the bed and frowned.

“…Are you ok? Did you sleep well?”

“I had that one nightmare again,” Allen yawned.

“Oh…” Sarah looked around nervously. “Are you feeling up to heading out?”

“Just give me a minute,” Allen sighed. “I’ll join you later.”

“You’re sure you don’t want me to wait for you?” Allen didn’t respond. “Ok… I’ll go wake Connor up again, I guess.” The door closed, leaving Allen to calm his nerves.

        A few minutes later, Allen got out of bed, got dressed, and headed out toward the mess hall out of habit. On his way there, he ran into a tired-looking man around the age of twenty-two.

“Surprised to see you awake this early, Connor,” Allen remarked.

“Shut up,” Connor yawned. “You think I’m gonna miss a day like today? You’re out of your mind. Even I can drag myself out of bed for this.” Connor put on a proud smirk. “I went to bed extra early just for today.”

“I heard you up at quarter to midnight.”

“Whatever,” Connor sighed. Allen resumed his beeline to the mess hall, expecting Connor to follow. “And where, exactly, do you think you’re going?” Connor snickered.

“To breakfast,” Allen answered.

“There’s food at the festival, you moron,” Connor laughed. “Hell, I don’t know about you, but that’s half the reason I’m going to begin with.” Allen took a moment to process that. He blinked a couple of times at Connor before it finally clicked.

“…Right. Yes. Of course.”

“The walk’ll wake you up,” said Connor. “If that doesn’t do it, the crowd will.” Allen shook the remaining sleep out of his head and followed Connor out of the stronghold, towards Grandstead.

~

        Even from a distance, the caliber of the festivities was apparent. The Festival of Salvation was already in full swing, despite the early hour; the entire town was covered in all sorts of ornaments that glittered in the morning sun. When Allen and Connor finally arrived at the gates of Grandstead and walked into town, they were immediately plunged into a churning riptide of shouting and cheer from the partygoers and stall owners. There was something to buy on every corner and then some—party supplies, toys, themed confectionaries, all adorned in the colors of the elements. The number of attractions was nothing short of staggering, and there was twice as much merriment to go around.

“Hey Allen, look over there,” Connor said, pointing across the way at a large, white figurine of Zade Dawnforge displayed front and center on a stand across the road, amongst a bunch of other figurines depicting the other gods in their respective colors. Allen raised his eyebrows and smiled.

“I…I kind of want that.” Allen kept staring at the figurine, considering his options. “…I have enough memorabilia,” he explained, mostly to himself. “I don’t even know where I’d put it.”

“You sure?” Connor said with a grin. “I’m sure Sarah would buy it for you if you asked.”

“I know she would,” Allen sighed. “That’s why I’m not going to.”

“Suit yourself.”

        Connor dragged Allen to a bland, undecorated stand on the edge of the festival, hastily constructed but surprisingly sturdy-looking. In spite of the unglamourous exterior, an irresistible smell, indicative of masterwork, wafted from within the stall, serving as its only saving grace amongst its far more flashy competition. Sarah was waiting on one of the stools. She waved at Allen and Connor as they approached.

“I knew this’d be the first place you’d go,” she sneered at Connor. “Good to see you’re feeling better, Allen. Oh, and I saved you a piece of cake, Connor.”

“What, just one?” Connor joked, eyeing up the cake with an excited glint in his eye. “You’re the best, sis.”

“You want more? Mrs. Faris is almost done the next batch; you can buy another. I already ordered mine.”

Allen reached into his pocket to grab his wallet, and instead, found nothing. He’d left his wallet back at the stronghold in a half-asleep daze.

“Oh. Whoops.” Sarah leaned forward to make eye contact.

“Forget something?”

“My wallet,” Allen answered.

“Don’t worry, I’ll buy you a slice,”

“No, it’s fine,” Allen assured her. Sarah frowned at him.

“You need to eat  _ something _ , Allen,” she insisted, producing a bunch of coins and laying them on the counter. “You know what, no, I’m buying you two,” she continued, taking out a few more coins. Allen considered arguing, but decided it wouldn’t make a difference.

“Fine. You win,” he murmured.

        After they’d placed their orders, Allen listened to Connor and Sarah talk while he waited for the food to be done, barely contributing. He watched customers come and go from the stalls around him and stared at the shiny foil of the decorations, completely zoned out. He was jolted back to reality by a jab in the arm from Connor. A pair of generously sized slices of cake were sitting right in front of him, expertly decorated with icing and other miscellaneous toppings. He hadn’t even noticed.

“If you aren’t eating those, I will,” Connor announced, muffled by a mouthful of cake. Allen picked up his utensils and began to cut into his slice, to claim it.

“What’re you thinking about, Allen?” Sarah asked.

“Uh, nothing, really.”

“So, the usual?” Connor jeered. Allen rolled his eyes and smiled.

“Yeah, exactly,” he sighed.

        Allen went back to spacing out, half listening to Connor and Sarah’s conversation while eating his cake. Halfway through his second slice, while Allen was glancing around at nothing in particular, he spotted a towering man in a white cloak with some slight, gold highlights amongst all the cheer, walking straight toward him. Connor and Sarah noticed too, by the time the man reached Allen and bent close to whisper.

“Come with me,” the deep, almost menacing voice requested. Allen recognized the voice immediately even despite all the noise, and promptly got up to follow. Connor and Sarah did the same. The three followed the man into a quiet, uninhabited cranny of town, where the man took off his hood, revealing a dark, scarred face and an empty expression.

        “What are you doing here, Master Corryl?" Allen asked.

“Yeah, what’s with the disguise?” Connor added on.

“This is for Allen’s ears only, you two,” Corryl rumbled. “Go have fun.” Sarah tilted her head.

“What? What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Corryl rebutted. “Go on. Leave.”

“But…” Sarah glanced around and sighed. “…Alright…there’s no point arguing with you, sir. Come on, Connor, you want some more to eat?”

“Always,” Connor laughed, then gave Corryl a curious glance. “Hmm. Well, good luck with…whatever it is, Allen.”

        “I hate to cut into your leisure time,” said Corryl, once Connor and Sarah were gone. “But me and Arryn think it’s high time for you claim your godhood.” Allen’s face hardened. He knew it was only a matter of time before he’d have to succeed his father, but it’d never really occurred him that it’d be sooner rather than later. “You’ve trained long enough; the demonic army is up to something, and we need someone like you. There’s no time like the present.” Allen hesitated a little.

“I understand,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“Straight and to the point…” Corryl said to himself, letting a smile escape onto his face. He put the hood of his cloak back on. “Come. Arryn’s waiting for us.”

~

        Allen and Corryl made their way to the fringe of Hallowcrest Hill, where Arryn waited for them along with a couple of angelic soldiers.

“I assume you know why we brought you here,” Arryn said. Allen nodded. “Here’s what you need to do. You need to make your way up to Hallowcrest Point, where the Essence of Light rests; consider it one last test—should be pretty easy, especially after all your training. Once you get there, you must place your hand upon the Essence and let its power flow through you. Most would be vaporized, annihilated instantly by the essence’s sheer power.” Arryn paused, and smiled. “But you, Allen…you are Zade’s flesh and blood. If anyone can do it at such an early age, it’s you. Of that much I’m sure. Even if you fail, you’ll survive. I know it.” Arryn sighed. “…But even still, there are no guarantees.” Allen nodded solemnly, gathering his courage.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Corryl noted. “Since the festival is in full swing, I doubt there’ll be anyone to disturb you. Me and Arryn will guard the entrance to keep it that way; we’ll check in on you later.” Corryl beckoned one of the soldiers closer. “I brought your sword, just in case of emergency.”

        The soldier handed Allen an incredibly light scabbard with ornate flowing markings travelling up and down the length of it. Inside rested a pristine, single-edged blade. Allen secured the scabbard to his belt and gazed up at the monumental castle of marble waiting for him at the top of the hill, the Temple of Order.

“Good luck,” Arryn said.

“May The Grand Teacher watch over you,” Corryl added. Allen saluted to the both of them, steeled himself for the long journey up, and set off.

~

        After a while of hiking up the hill, Allen finally arrived at the Hallowcrest Ruins. The cool white marble of the ruins shone brightly in the early afternoon sun, The Temple of Order above engulfed in a blinding white halo. The ruins outlined the shape of what must have been some sort of bastion, ruined long, long ago by the tides of time and whatever else. On top of a few of the massive slabs of marble were worn down walkways, complete with parapets. Even in their dilapidated state, the ruins stirred respect in Allen. He began to walk through the huge, arched entryway and into the heart of the ruins, when all of the sudden, he caught a glimpse of black amongst all the radiant white, out of the corner of his left eye. Allen stopped in his tracks to get a better look; it was a tall, muscular figure with pale red skin, fully equipped in matte black armor. A demon.

        Just barely out of the demon’s line of sight, Allen watched as he disappeared around the corner. Allen crept closer to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, and looked around the corner. Allen gaped in disbelief; there were dozens of demonic soldiers as far as the eye could see, all loitering around inside the ruins for no discernable reason.

“What the hell are demons doing here, of all places?” Allen asked himself. “How did they get here? Why? What are they doing?” Allen kept staring at them. They didn’t seem very active, despite being fully geared for conflict. Some of them paced around and others sat against the marble walls, idly chatting. The sheer number of demonic soldiers and lack of suitable cover inside made passage virtually impossible.

        Allen pondered for a while, absentmindedly watching the demons’ every move. Fighting through was out of the question; Allen could barely fight a group of three alone, let alone more. Before any of the demons could notice him spying on them, Allen doubled back, out of the ruins. He’d have to find another way. Relentlessly steep cliffs blocked the way to the Temple of Order on both sides of the ruins, so going around would be infeasible. Nevertheless, left with no other options, Allen went to look for some way, any way, to get past.

        Allen found a glimmer of hope to the right of the ruins. There was a chunk of marble missing from the corner of the ramparts bordering the cliff, just barely within reach. Allen jumped to grab the ledge and tried to pull himself up, but he didn’t have a good enough grip nor the strength to do it. Determined as ever, Allen stepped back, sprinted toward the cliff, and jumped off of it, gaining that little bit of extra height needed to get a better grip. With great effort, he pulled himself up onto the ledge, and using the missing chunk as a makeshift ramp, climbed to the top of the ramparts.

        Starting from the right wall of the ruins, Allen followed the ramparts until he came to the left wall, allowing him to get closer to the Temple of Order, and past the demons below. Allen tried to eavesdrop on their conversations as he went, but he couldn’t make out much of anything; there were too many voices to distinguish between. Using that commotion to his advantage, Allen quietly continued onward. Soon he came to the back wall of the ruins, separating the demons’ makeshift camp from the rest of the way to the Temple of Order, with a single arched exit just like the entrance before it. Allen walked to the edge, carefully lowered himself down, and dropped to the ground. Carefully scanning his surroundings, Allen resumed his trek to the Temple of Order.

        Before he could make any real progress, Allen was stopped by an abrupt exclamation from behind.

“What the—?! A human?!” the sharp, tenor voice asked itself. Allen whirled around to see a young demonic soldier—barely a few years older than him—gawking at him. Having finally processed what he was seeing, the young demon turned around to dart back into the ruins and alert his superiors. Allen drew his sword to chase the young demon, but already knew he’d be too late to stop him. Just before the demon got to the exit, he was nailed by an arrow that burrowed into his upper right skull. He swerved and crashed into the wall left of the exit, wobbled around a bit, and then got knocked to the ground by another arrow. Looking for the source of the arrows, Allen saw a figure waving at him from atop the ramparts he’d just been walking on. It was Sarah, with her hair tied up, crossbow and quiver in tow.

        Allen stared at Sarah as she climbed down from the ramparts to greet him.

“Close one. You alright?” she asked.

“I should have known you’d follow me,” Allen mumbled to himself. Sarah smiled a little.

“Actually…this was Connor’s idea. Said he overheard Master Arryn mentioning you and your godhood a while ago.” Sarah’s smile widened. “He was worried about you, so we came to check in.” Sarah glanced over at the young demon’s body by the exit to the ruins and her smile went away. “Looks like it’s a good thing we did. We saw a few demons earlier; Connor went to get help.”

“Right...I’m going on ahead,” Allen said.

“And I’m going with you,” Sarah asserted. Allen examined her for a moment and shrugged.

“Alright. Whatever you say.”

~

        It didn’t take long until the two of them finally arrived at the Temple of Order, in all its scintillating grandeur. It was a much more impressive sight up close; an imposing, monumental building of intricate yet ancient architecture, somehow preserved from the vicious tides of time through some kind of coincidence or miracle. Merely standing in its presence chilled Allen, the sheer power and authority it exuded piercing his armor of calm. A gaping arched entrance perfectly centered in the front dared any brave enough to step into the gaping antechamber within.

        Allen drifted into the temple and examined the antechamber, his footsteps faintly echoing all the while. It was entirely undecorated, save for a few elegant, perfectly symmetrical markings carved into the marble walls. A pair of corridors on either side branched off into other rooms. Allen ignored them and walked straight forward to a huge wooden door leading to the main hall.

“Wait!” Sarah whispered as Allen placed his hand upon the door. Allen turned to look at Sarah. She closed her eyes and a began to emit a faint, magical pulse. “There’s…there’s someone in here with us. Two, actually.”

“Any idea where?” Allen whispered back. Sarah stopped focusing and glanced around.

“I can’t exactly tell,” she said, pointing toward the main hall, “but they’re somewhere in that direction.”

“We’ll tread lightly,” Allen said, gesturing for Sarah to come closer. He opened the door a crack, so they could peek in.

        The door led to a cavernous, multileveled colossus of a room with dozens of decoratively-shaped glass panes in the roof that showered the room in light. Near the back of the main hall, flanked by twin curved staircases leading to the upper walkways that bordered the walls, rested what looked like some kind of altar, presumably for worship or presentation. On both floors, dozens of hallways branched off into the deeper ends of the temple. Beyond those, behind the staircases, was another large passage. Allen’s destination waited through there, past the temple and to the very edge of the path; Hallowcrest Point, home to the Sanctuary of Light.

        Allen and Sarah quietly slipped inside and began to walk to the end of the room, but before they even made it halfway, a pair of echoing footsteps broke the eerie silence. From out of the passageway to the Sanctuary of Light came a pair of demonic soldiers. Both wore armor distinctly more ornate and less bulky than all the other soldiers Allen had seen on the way, exemplified by their spiky, draconic looking helmets that covered the entire head. The demon on the left abruptly stopped their discussion upon entering the main hall proper.

“Hold on, Cyrus,” he announced, his loud voice echoing through the room. He pointed down at Allen and Sarah. “We’ve got company.”

~

        The demon on the right, more than a foot taller than the other, glowered at Allen and Sarah, then turned his gaze to his colleague.

“I thought you said the humans would out celebrating today, Blake,” he grumbled.

“They are,” the demon on the left spat back. “I even checked. Guess these two are just looking for some peace and quiet or some shit. I’m not omniscient, Cyrus.”

“I suppose there’s always an outlier or two,” Cyrus mumbled.

“Go rally the troops,” Blake said. “I’ll handle this.” Cyrus shrugged and unhurriedly walked out of the main hall through one of the doorways to his right. Blake refocused his attention on Allen and Sarah. “Can’t have you two squealing to your superiors, now, can we?” he shouted, drawing a golden, highly decorated, one-handed sword. Allen and Sarah drew their weapons in response.

        Blake charged at Allen and swung at him. Allen raised his sword to block it and quickly countered, aiming for the neck. Evidently surprised, Blake jumped backward, barely dodging Allen’s retaliation.

“Oh, you can fight back?” Blake said to himself. “This may be more fun than I thought.” He prepared himself to charge forward again, when an arrow lodged into a small gap in between his armor’s plates with a loud thunk. He turned around and glared at Sarah, who’d darted away to give herself some distance. Before he could chase her down, Allen slashed at his back, knocking him off balance. “FUCK!” he yelled in frustration, whirling around again and raising his sword, swinging rapidly at Allen in an impatient rage. With impressive speed and grace, Allen blocked each and every strike, giving himself an instant to strike back. He wasted no time and knocked Blake’s helmet clean off with a diagonal, upward swing with his sword. The helmet flew off and clattered to the ground, revealing not a demon’s face, but what looked like a human’s; a face that looked uncannily similar to Arryn’s, to the point of being nearly identical. “You’re more capable than you look, you little shits,” Blake snarled. “I suppose I’ll grace you with some actual effort.”

        Blake sheathed his sword and closed his eyes. After a moment of focus, his entire body erupted in a raging flame as he spread his arms wide. As soon as the flames subsided, before he had a chance to resume fighting, Blake was shot in the left temple. His eyes snapped onto Sarah, who’d run up to the second-floor balcony for safety. Blake’s face contorted in fury. He grabbed the arrow, tore it out of his head, and incinerated it.

“I’ve had ENOUGH OF YOUR BULLSHIT!!” he yelled, and hurled a huge ball of fire at Sarah. Sarah attempted to dive out of the way, but wasn’t fast enough. The fireball hit her square in the upper left chest, engulfing her head to toe in fire. The force of the fireball’s blast sent her flying headfirst into the wall behind her, knocking her out immediately. Blake refocused on Allen. “You next,” he growled.

        A massive spear of flame erupted from Blake’s hand as he thrust it toward Allen. Allen ducked under it and stood up just in time to see Blake lunging toward him. He swung at Allen with his fist ablaze, and again, Allen raised his sword to block it. Blake’s arm slammed into the sword at full force. He yanked his hand away in pain, temporarily baffled by Allen’s speed.

“God DAMNIT!!” Blake howled, redrawing his sword. He swung his sword at Allen, prepared this time. Allen blocked the strike, and Blake quickly followed up with a thrust to Allen’s middle with his free hand. From it exploded a huge fiery blast, sending Allen flying into the air and crashing down hard onto the marble floor. Allen trembled on the ground as the fire scarred his skin, struggling to get back on his feet. Blake let loose a hearty laugh. “You’re an impressive fighter, for a human, I’ll give you that,” he sneered. “But you can’t hope to match a god. Your power pales in comparison to mine." Allen finally managed to get back on his feet and returned to his fighting stance. Blake raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t had your fill?” he snickered, a proud grin spreading across his face. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

        Blake pointed his sword at Allen, and the blade erupted in flame. He ran up to Allen once again and prepared to swing. He faked a swing to the right, and Allen moved to block, prompting Blake to do an upward slash, leaving a trail of lingering fire behind. Caught off guard and without enough time to block, Allen dodged to his left. Blake followed up with a downward swing, but despite all odds, Allen deftly parried it at mind-numbing speed, and countered with a direct hit to Blake’s left arm.

“WHAT IN THE—” Blake barked, getting interrupted by another slash to his face, cutting his lip and nose. Blake staggered backward, shook his head, and spit out some blood. “Tsk.” He rolled his neck before shooting a volley of fireballs at Allen. Allen darted away to avoid them, each scorching explosion right on his heels. Blake stopped shooting fireballs to concentrate, a stream of flaming energy flowing through his body and into his hands, causing a huge beam of fire to erupt forth. He swept the beam across the room after Allen while Allen desperately tried to keep ahead of it. At the last second, Allen flipped over the beam, the flames nipping at his hair, and charged at Blake. Blake threw one last fireball and hit Allen in the shoulder, knocking him off balance. While Allen was still staggered, Blake set his sword ablaze once more, and hit Allen with all his might. In an explosion of fire, Allen flew away and crashed onto the ground, breathing heavily and badly wounded. Nevertheless, after only a moment or two, he began to struggle to get up. Blake stared at the quivering, crumpled body in disbelief. “How are you still moving…?!” he gasped. “Wait a second…you…” he began to mumble, as Allen finally got on his feet. ”You’re not human. You must be an angel.” Allen stared at Blake with empty, determined eyes, the wounds from Blake’s sword closing and the burn marks rapidly disappearing. “Well, now, that explains everything,” Blake said to himself. “Had I known that, I’d have actually gotten serious.” Blake smiled at Allen and scoffed. “You’re not even worth my time anymore. But I feel like slaughtering you anyway. You put up a good fight.”

        Suddenly, in the silence that followed, the two were alarmed by another pair of footsteps. They looked to the upper floor, and from the hallway which led to Allen’s destination walked a hooded demon. He jumped down from the upper floor, forgoing the stairs, glaring at Blake and Allen with a pair of piercing white eyes.

“I thought I told your master I don’t need backup,” Blake growled at the demon. The demon didn’t respond, but something about him conveyed a sense of urgency.

        Allen began to feel light-headed. A cold, fuzzy feeling began to spread from the tip of his scalp down to his neck while the pain of his fight with Blake started to fade into the background. His grip on his sword instinctively tightened, and his legs grew lighter and lighter until it barely felt like they were there at all. All of the sudden, Allen became aware of a slight, dull pain in his wing stumps as he shivered underneath the demon’s curious, searching gaze. The adrenaline already surging within him skyrocketed in pressure. There was no mistaking The God Eater, even after fourteen years.

        Before any of them had a chance to move or say anything, a cacophonous amalgamation of footsteps approached from behind and the door to the main hall swung open with a powerful slam. In walked a startlingly large group of angelic soldiers, headed by Corryl and Arryn. Blake stopped glowering at The God Eater to gape at the angelic battalion.

“What…what are YOU doing here?” he muttered, his eyes landing on Arryn. Arryn, equally confused, stepped forward.

“I should ask you the same thing,” Arryn rebutted. “I thought you fucked off to lick the king’s throne room clean.”

“The Royal Guard was a stepping stone, nothing more,” Blake said, admiring his sword before sheathing it. He scanned the angelic mob before him, trying to get a feel for how many soldiers there were.

“We’ve forced your comrades to retreat,” Corryl announced. “We have you outnumbered by the hundreds.” Corryl gave Blake an intimidating glare. “If I were you, I’d be running away.  _ Fast _ .” Blake looked over his shoulder to The God Eater, only to see he had disappeared just as suddenly as he’d arrived. Blake seemed ready to boil over and explode, but contained himself and spread a pair of radiant white wings.

“You shitheads can’t survive on lucky breaks alone,” he seethed. “Sooner or later, you’ll crumble. All of you.” In a flash of bright orange flame, Blake jumped into the air, wings ablaze, and soared out through the back corridor, leaving a trail of lingering embers behind him. The main hall was silent for a moment before the angelic soldiers began to whisper to each other about Arryn’s mysterious doppelganger.

~

        From out of the group of soldiers emerged Connor, joining Corryl to check on Allen.

“I knew you’d need help,” Connor taunted. Allen rolled his eyes.

“Are you ok, Allen?” Corryl asked, deadpan as ever. “Any injuries?” Allen winced.

“None that…none that won’t heal,” he breathed. “Not sure about Sarah.”

“Is-is she alright?!” Connor yelped, his face freezing in terror.

“She should be,” Allen grunted through a pained grimace, pointing to the upper balcony as he stretched. “She’s tough. Probably needs some time to recover, though…” Connor bolted toward the staircases.

“I assume you’re good to keep going,” said Corryl. Allen finished stretching and groaned.

“Of course.”

        After Connor managed to wake Sarah up, Corryl and Arryn sent the soldiers to look for survivors, and decided to join Allen for the last stretch of the walk. Sarah, after unceasing protest, managed to convince Allen and Connor to let her come along as well. All five of them walked through the corridor in the back of the temple to the outside. Hallowcrest Point waited for them up ahead, nestled in the gently tinted horizon and surrounded by the sparkling blue expanse of the ocean. At the tip of the precipice was the Sanctuary of Light, the mid-afternoon sun directly behind it and causing it to glow with a heavenly yellowish light. Despite the winding, craggy path, the walk was brief and easygoing all the way to the end.

        The Essence of Light rested upon a small, chest high altar underneath a large, pagoda-like shrine made of marble, positively miniscule compared to the temple before it. The shrine, though humble in its construction, sported the same flourish decorating the Temple of Order, giving it an important, elegant aura despite its relatively meager size. The moment he saw it, Allen became fixated on the Essence of Light—A pulsating ball of pale golden energy, undulating and shining with a slow, warm, vital light. Just beneath the surface of it, white streaks danced this way and that at almost imperceptible speed, all ebbing from the center in a uniform wave. Allen could feel it calling to him; he felt like he was being magnetized to it. Only when he noticed Corryl staring at him did he realize he was shaking.

        Corryl nodded to Allen. Allen nodded back, and walked closer to the Essence. It’s warmth lit up his face as he stood before the altar. Allen slowly lifted his arms and carefully placed them upon the Essence. It was a bizarre feeling; it felt more like a force than an object. In the first instant, it filled Allen with exhilaration, filling his heart, his soul, his arms, his legs to their brimming point with pleasantly warm energy, to the point he could barely feel the gravity holding him to the ground. Then, suddenly, the pleasure vanished. Energy kept coming, more and more, growing and swelling inside him like he was drinking a waterfall. His body began to hurt, then burn. His skin felt like it was going to boil away from the sheer power of the light erupting within him. Allen’s willpower remained unflinching, and he kept his hands firmly locked upon the essence despite the pain. Soon, Allen could feel nothing but pain, hear nothing but the sound of a thousand stars bombarding him with their unyielding radiance. The longer Allen held on, the more he felt like something was about to snap within him, but before the snap came, everything stopped. Black. Utter silence.

~

        The next thing Allen knew, he was lying facedown in a foreign bed. His chest still burned, his wings stubs felt swollen, and his head felt fuzzy. The rest of his body felt abnormally warm. Fighting through the haze, Allen saw Corryl and Arryn sitting at a table, both wearing white cloaks with the hoods down, talking in hushed voices he couldn’t make out. After scanning his surroundings a little more, Allen realized he’d been taken to one of the inns at Grandstead. With great effort, he sat up, trying to stretch the stiffness and pain away.

“Allen!!” a familiar voice shouted from behind him, startling him. He twisted around to see Sarah staring at him. “You’re awake! Are you ok?!” Allen blinked a couple of times.

“…It would appear so,” he yawned.

“Well, feel any different, Allen?” Arryn asked, an expectant look on his face. Allen looked back, confused for a moment. Then, as the pain subsided and the fuzziness in his head cleared, he felt just the slightest bit…healthier. More powerful. As if moved by ancestral knowledge, Allen raised his arm and opened his palm. Allen could feel energy coursing through his veins, into his hand. Allen focused on that energy, and suddenly, a small, yet bright light burst forth from his palm, covering it in pale yellow energy and bathing his hand in warmth like the feeling of the summer sun. Arryn’s curious gaze turned into a smile.

“I suppose you weren’t quite ready,” Corryl rumbled. “This is our fault for forcing you to claim your godhood so early. I’m sorry.” Corryl looked at the still shining light in Allen’s palm. “It would seem, however, that you’ve gained a great deal of power regardless.” The light receded, and Allen stood up. He felt just the slightest bit more limber. Corryl put his hand to his chin. “I never had any doubt you’d survive, but I must say, I’m still impressed. I’m sure you are, too, Arryn.” Arryn nodded.

“If I were your age, I’d have given up on the spot,” he laughed. “We’ll break you into your powers later. I think you’ve deserved a little time at the festival.” Arryn pulled on his hood and walked out of the room, Corryl following close behind.

“We’ve still got a couple hours ‘till nightfall,” Sarah chirped, standing up from her chair. “So we’ve got plenty of time to make up for all the partying we missed!”

“We can’t miss the fireworks, though, either,” Connor added. “I hear they’re gonna be even better than last year’s.”

“They’ll definitely keep me awake,” Allen said. “…Probably.” Sarah rolled her eyes, then suddenly remembered something.

“Oh, right!” she gasped, then presented a large, white figurine of Zade Dawnforge to Allen. Connor covered his face, suppressing a laugh with all his might. “I saw this on the way here and thought you would like it. There were only, like, two left, so I got in line and got the last one for you!” Allen stared at the figurine, surprised, yet in a way, not surprised at all. He tentatively accepted the figurine, unable to resist Sarah’s proud, beaming smile.

“Thanks, Sarah,” he said with an exhausted laugh. “It means a lot.”

 

 

 

        In the heart of his fortress, isolated from the outside by myriad walls of umbrous stone, The Demon Lord sat upon his throne, patiently waiting, ruminating about countless plans and concepts of plans. A demon in ornate, important looking robes walked up the red carpet and bowed, then stood straight upright and cleared his throat.

“Commander Blake will be right with you, Lord Lucien,” said the demon, prim and respectful.

“You’re dismissed,” Lucien acknowledged.

“Yes, Your Eminence.”

        Not long after, Blake strode into the room with his arms crossed, still bearing the anger from a few days prior.

“Well, Blake?” Lucien boomed, raising his eyebrows.

“You know I’m right. You knew I was right. You’ve worked with them for years. You know better than anyone here that my plan was sound. You’re even the one who gave it the go ahead!  _ And you even helped make it _ . ”

“And yet, you failed,” Lucien noted. Blake sputtered, at a loss for words for a second.

“ _ Yes _ , the plan fai—”

“So it must be a matter of execution, then, correct?”

“NO!” Blake shouted. “It was a matter of luck! Chance! The festival was almost entirely unguarded, our soldiers stood ready to attack, ready to annihilate every last defense they had, and then…a couple of rats  _ just so happened _  to wander into the wrong place at the wrong time and ruin fucking everything. The plan would have unfurled  _ flawlessly  _ if…” Blake stopped to catch his breath. “Oh, and sending The God Eater to spy on me was entirely unnecessary,” Blake spat, poison dripping from every word.

“There’s a good chance it was not,” Lucien rebutted, entirely unfazed. “Your impertinence toward your peers is concerning, Blake.  _ Very _ concerning. There’s enough strife in the army already, and I won’t tolerate you stirring any trouble.” Lucien raised an eyebrow and gave Blake a menacing glare. “Do I make myself clear?” Blake exhaled, cupped his face in his hand, then looked up to meet Lucien’s gaze.

“Crystal clear, sir. But remember this—I’m nobody’s lackey.”

“I respect that, Blake. Truly.” Lucien returned to his train of thought. “…You’re dismissed.” Blake saluted and turned to walk out. Lucien watched him go. Yet another thing to ponder on.


End file.
